The Dead
by Cactus101
Summary: Bosco has a realization of what was truly lost after 9/11
1. The Dead

The Dead

Author : Cactus101

A/N - It felt so good to have my muse reawaken after such a lengthy hiatus. Yes, it has been years. Between work, life and the fact that TW was cancelled, I had forgotten how much I needed to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard to get some of my thoughts and emotions out into the open.

This story was inspired by two things; my own real life experience when viewing an old home movie taken just before 9/11 and the short story, 'The Dead', by James Joyce.

This may end up being a multi chapter story, but for now my muse is happy with this as a stand-alone. Enjoy.

Disclaimers: I don't own any part of Third Watch or 'The Dead' by James Joyce

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Barely a few months ago, I watched Charlie and Emily running through the park; it was Charlie's birthday. Faith didn't plan a party but I showed up anyway with some ice cream and a small gift. Charlie high fived me before ripping through my crude wrapping and discovering a couple of miniature cars, just like the ones I adored as a kid.

Faith looked on proudly as Charlie raced around the apartment, one car in each hand, both arms battling for the lead. She had decided it was time to head to the park when Emily joined in the fun and knick knacks started to mysteriously fall from their perch in the living room. I watched the horrified looks on the children's faces as the items toppled to the floor and then the absolute relief when they realized they were still, incredibly, intact. I caught a sideways look from Faith who was trying not to laugh while looking stern and trying to get the kids to behave.

As we stepped out of the building, we could feel the humidity wrapping itself around us and the heat threatening to smoother the air out of our lungs. It was the end of August and the summer was in no hurry to end. The grey skies were menacing, and they looked like they could open up at any time. The rain would have been a welcome respite to the sweat starting to glue our clothes to our bodies.

The park was swarming with parents and children eager to escape the heat of their apartments. You could hear laughter and crying, singing and yelling all mixing into the background noise of the car horns and vehicles on the street. The teenage boys were off to the side playing hoops and insulting each other. The mothers were sitting on the park benches, one eye on their youngsters and the other on their watches. Life still had to be timed.

I'm brought back to that day by a small note I fish out of my pocket. I stop in my tracks, on the landing overlooking the precinct when I realize it was put there by Charlie. I smile as I notice his crooked handwriting which despite his best efforts doesn't quite stay within the lines. I finger the folds in the page to flatten it out before reading the note. 'Dear uncle Bos, tank you for the ice creem and the kars. The blu one is my favrit. Love Charlie.'

I reread it over and over again, gently whispering the words, hoping that making them real will bring back the world I knew.

I remember that day as perfect, despite the heat and the greyness, recognizing it as such only now, after the fact, after my mind and spirit have been infected by this unknown evil. Seeing each moment for what it really was, a time of innocence lost, fleeting and ephemeral, to be recalled but never felt again. Watching the children with a lightness of spirit and enjoying Faith's company without a care for crashing planes and falling buildings. I long to turn back the clock so I could go back to worrying about issues which seem so trivial now.

The memories of these small moments have been pushed aside in the never ending search for bodies and terrorists. Leisure moments have been replaced by funerals and visits to widows. I am frozen by this remembrance and I am unable to move forward or back, both literally and figuratively. I am stuck in the shadow of the present as I suffer the loss of my own innocence and naiveté which I didn't even know I had until this very instant.

I scan the room and the realization dawns on me that everyone around me has suffered the same loss and probably doesn't know it yet.

I swallow hard as I spot Faith staring up at me from the bottom of the stairway. Sound and motion seem to swirl around her but she exudes an unnerving stillness. Our eyes lock and her intense gaze makes me question whether she can read my mind. Can she tell that right here, right now, I have understood that I have lost something precious and irreplaceable?

I see the precinct before me but my mind looks back at the memory of that day. A day which seems so distant, like an old black and white photograph, the kind you see on those PBS documentaries. The camera zooming in on the silent faces full of hope and promise, knowing they are long gone and all their dreams scattered into history.

I see who we were before that fateful day and it is like gazing at those black and white photos, like staring at the images of the dead.

I stand as a witness in a room full of dead spirits. When I look back down I see that Faith has turned away and is speaking to Lieu. I unconsciously crumple the note from Charlie and toss it into the waste paper basket. Reading that note is like dreaming of the dead, only to realize it was just a dream and the dead are just that and the world I knew is gone forever.

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	2. The Living

Author: Cactus101

A/N - Well my muse is back at it and now I have penned a second chapter. This time the story is told from Faith's POV as she watches Bosco in the precinct.

This idea for this fafic was inspired by two things; my own real life experience when viewing an old home movie taken just before 9/11 and the short story, 'The Dead', by James Joyce.

The timeline in my fic doesn't exactly match the timeline of the tv show (I seem to recall Cruz appearing way after 9/11) but as a writer I have taken the liberty of rearranging it for my own personal use.

Disclaimers: I don't own any part of Third Watch or 'The Dead' by James Joyce

The Living

I stand in the precinct, at the bottom of the stairs and gaze up at him on the landing above. He doesn't notice me or anyone else as he stares blankly at the piece of paper in his hands. The note he holds must be from her. I say this because nothing else could have such a hold over him; she has the power to freeze him and render him helpless.

Slowly his features change and his face demonstrates a mixture of pain, defeat and a deep, heart wrenching longing. It makes me want to run up to him, rip that note out of his hands and stop our silent game of lies and half truths. I want to tell him to come back to me and 55-David that we can go back to the way we were but every super hero has a weak spot, and she is his.

My hand unconsciously wraps itself around the banister leading up to him, willing me up these stairs. Just then his eyes break away from the note and inadvertently turn to me. I sense his mask shattering as our eyes meet, and all his facades fall away until there are no lies between us. The layers of mistrust and hurt are replaced by naked honesty. He holds nothing back. His eyes, his posture, his very being screams out for mercy, not from me but from his own turmoil.

I release the banister when I hear Lieu call out to me and turn away from him. I hold my breath as I hope in my heart of hearts that he chooses me - us. But, I know he must make this decision on his own. All I can do is wonder how did we get so lost? How did it come to this? Why do I feel like I know him inside out and yet we're strangers when we're in the same room.

The question gnaws at me and I twist around to search him out. He is no longer watching me. His hands clench, crushing the paper between his fingers. He throws it absentmindedly into the garbage, while his racing thoughts and emotions pull him away from me. The hurt etched on his features is unmistakable and my gut clenches knowing she caused it.

In the last months, my image of him as an undefeatable super hero has been reduced to that of a mere man. I say superhero because I could always count on Bosco to defend what is right based on truth and justice. All of us eventually get bogged down in the pettiness of the everyday situations but out of all of us here at Camelot, Bosco was the one who held on to the path and vision we forged on those first shifts when we knew what we did mattered.

And now, with the clarity of hindsight, I look back and see all the small acts of surrender. How he surrendered the truth to get the required result. How he gradually lowered himself to her level and that of the criminals in order to lock them away. How he gave up his very being for what?

It slowly dawns in me that he has become one of us and one of my deepest beliefs, that Bosco could never lose his need to do the right thing, no longer holds. My naive notion that something could stay true forever is shattered. And so, I watch him fall. Not from the top of an immeasurable height where superheroes live, but from where I stand, down here with the everyday mortals.

He walks away and I hesitatingly make my way up the stairs. I want to know how she managed to steal him away from me, and how once again, he chose her over himself.

I wait until he disappears down a corridor and then I don't even bother to hide my actions. I plunge my hand into the metallic basket and grab the balled up paper. I take a deep breath before I unfurl it and ready myself for the hatred simmering just below the surface.

But hatred is replaced by surprise as my eyes take in the writing and the words. I am lost in my own memories as I try to search my brain for the day I helped Charlie write this note. It finally comes back to me; it was Charlie's birthday and my recollection of Bosco's unexpected visit causes me to smile.

I tug at the edges of the paper, straightening it out and flattening the creases. But the worn and frayed edges and the wrinkled and faded background cannot be undone. They are a reminder that words spoken in anger and gestures born out of spite cannot be taken back or erased but linger and fester and fill the space between us.

And, as the memories of that day connect to other long ago memories I get a glimpse of what was and I finally realize what I have lost. Maybe Bosco was right to throw out this crumpled piece of paper that feels more like a keepsake from an ancient time and place.

But I can't take my eyes away from it because it holds words worth reading and memories worth remembering and I cannot bring myself to toss it aside. I tell myself this is all I need to know and I fold the note and hold it tightly as I make my way outside to find Bosco.


	3. Somewhere In Between

The Dead - Chapter 3 - Somewhere In Between

Author: Cactus101

A/N - This is the final chapter of this fanfic. Can Bosco and Faith overcome there differences and put the past behind them?

This idea for this fanfic was inspired by two things; my own real life experience when viewing an old home movie taken just before 9/11 and the short story, 'The Dead', by James Joyce.

The timeline in my fic doesn't exactly match the timeline of the TV show (I seem to recall Cruz appearing way after 9/11 but as a writer I have taken the liberty of rearranging it for my own personal use.

Disclaimers: I don't own any part of Third Watch or 'The Dead' by James Joyce

Somewhere In Between

The evening air was cold and crisp. Darkness had started to cover the horizon but the light grey skies and the muted light from the moon gave the world a dreamlike feel.

Bosco's still form was framed by the glow of the street lamp. He stood with his back to the precinct, his hands splayed open on the hood of his car, his shoulders slumped forward either to brace himself from the cold or to hold himself up against the weight of the world.

Faith stood motionless outside the precinct door, her frosty breath barely visible against the fog descending on the city. She could have easily stood there and watched him from afar until she convinced herself to turn back and leave well enough alone. But the paper in her clenched fist reminded her why she had come out to seek him. She couldn't let things continue on the current path which could only lead to a point of no return.

She walked slowly and deliberately, buying herself time to think of what to say to him. The closer she got, the more she was unable to imagine how she could bridge the gap between them with mere words. She moved to the side of the Mustang, within Bosco's peripheral vision. She waited for him to acknowledge her presence and after some moments, he did so with a sideways look and a half hearted, "Hey".

He didn't change position, just continued to lean on his arms and turned his head back to face the hood of his car.

"Hey," she responded softly. She waited patiently but he offered no other acknowledgements. "What are you doing out here, all by yourself?" She asked. Except she didn`t really need to know why he was alone, just why he seemed to be so tormented. She wound her arms around herself to keep warm and waited. He didn't react, maybe he hadn't heard her or maybe he just didn't want to answer but after a long pause he replied, "Nothing... just thinking."

Faith nodded imperceptibly, confirming her understanding that his lack of interest in her presence meant he didn't want her around. She almost turned to leave when she wondered why there seemed to be no words left between them. Ironic, she thought because she could not begin to count the number of hours they spent in the RMP talking about a million stupid, little things or the most imponderable mysteries of the universe. It was as if all the words between them were used up and there were no new conversations to start up. But she knew better; there were still plenty of words but lately, they were all spiteful and hurtful.

Tonight, as she clasped that note in her hand, she chose to push away the recent battles and recall how they had spent the majority of their time together; laughing, chatting and firing witty one liners at each other.

She felt a grin pull at the edge of her mouth as a litany of smartass answers to Bosco's lame reply swirled in her brain. These were the kind of retorts that once upon a time, were second nature to both of them. She could not recall the last time she felt this mischievous.

"Sounds like one and the same," she quipped, hoping the joke would find its mark. "Doing nothing and thinking," she elaborated.

Bosco's eyes shot up almost instantly and she couldn't tell whether they displayed anger or surprise. Then a crooked smile formed on his lips just before he rolled his eyes at her comeback. "Yeah, I guess I deserve that," he chuckled lightly.

Faith relaxed. It felt good to be on the right side of the invisible line they had drawn and she wanted it to stay that way. "It's been a while since I heard you laugh," Faith offered in an almost a sad voice, the smile fading from her eyes.

Bosco shrugged apologetically as if accused of something. "I guess I haven't had any reason to," he answered ruefully. He resumed his position facing the hood of his car and Faith sighed as she thought about the lack of words between them.

"Just thinking," he repeated softly.

"What?" Faith asked in confusion.

"You asked what I was doing," Bosco explained. He turned slowly and leaned back until he sat on the car. He eyed Faith intensely. She imagined he was angry at her for one of their recent fights but she couldn't tell which one. So, she waited for him to start in on her as was their now customary way of speaking to one another. To her surprise he did not speak, just kept sitting and staring. He seemed eerily quiet. Moments passed with nothing but silence between them and when Bosco's scrutiny did not abate Faith began to feel uncomfortable.

"What are you looking at?" she asked nervously but hated the accusatory tone of her question and quickly added, "I didn't mean it that way".

Bosco didn't take his eyes off her; he just sat there calmly and ignored her awkward apology. He continued to stare patiently and then worded, "Everything."

Faith wasn't expecting such a response. Her confusion was clearly etched in her features and sensing her uneasiness Bosco immediately regretted his statement. He averted his eyes remorsefully as he corrected himself and whispered, "Nothing."

But Faith's mind spun on Bosco's original reply trying to make sense of it. Was this his attempt at an apology, she wondered. But she was unable to sort this out in her mind, and Bosco's demeanour offered no clues on his inner thoughts. Faith pushed aside her own nervousness and finally broke the empty silence as she released the hushed question gnawing at her. "What does that mean?"

Bosco shifted his weight and looked down at his feet. Not so long ago it was the most natural thing in the world to confide in Faith. He had been able to tell her everything and now, he just wanted her to know how much he missed her but he had trouble getting the words out. He took a deep breath and tried to put his thoughts in order before starting again. "I used to recognize us," he said softly.

Faith waited quietly. She understood that this was not a conversation between them but Bosco's confession to her.

"55 David," Bosco stated as he looked up and smiled wistfully. Faith had to momentarily look away to hide the ache that she felt at the nostalgia emanating from Bosco's words. Nevertheless, she quickly gathered her strength and met his gaze with a small nod of her head, urging him on.

"That was the one place, the only place, where I didn't feel alone even when you weren't there..." his voice trailed off as his eyes focused down the street at some unseen memory. Faith clutched the note in her hand and felt the same sense of loss Bosco was expressing. They had been hurtling out of control for such a long time that it was hard to remember what they were like before.

"I wish...," Bosco whispered his voice laced with longing. Faith allowed herself a brief moment of hope as she waited for Bosco to finish his sentence, but he let the thought drift away like so many other unfulfilled wishes. She watched him shut his eyes and she could all but hear his internal conversation telling himself he was stupid to think this rift could be repaired by wishing it so.

After a lingering silence, Faith found her voice, gathered her courage and asked, "What do you wish?"

Bosco's shrugged his shoulders in defeat and after a long shaky breath opened his eyes and stared back at Faith. Faith saw a mixture of anger, disbelief and shame, a look Faith had only seen once after Bosco confronted his mother in the hospital about her low-life boyfriend Skaggett. Faith half expected Bosco to storm off in a huff. Instead, he shook his head in disgust as if to berate himself. "I wish," he started as his eyes hardened, "we would stop hanging on to things that don't exist anymore." He pushed himself away from the car and took a few steps until his back was to Faith making it clear he wanted this conversation to end.

Faith was not wounded by his tone; she understood how difficult this was for Bosco and knew his anger was directed at himself for hoping and wanting 55 David back. His statement echoed in her ears and she wondered if it was true they were hanging on to something that didn't exist anymore. She hated to admit it to herself, but as she searched her memory, she found no evidence of a partnership much less a friendship in recent months. It dawned on her that their continuing fights created the illusion that she and Bosco were still connected but she knew that when the fighting stopped, there would be nothing left and 55 David would cease to exist. The realization left her feeling like she had been punched in the gut.

Bosco stood motionless before her as if made of stone. The only give away to the turmoil within was the misty breath spewing from his mouth like steam from a simmering volcano. Faith stood apprehensive but steadfast before him, she did not want this situation to continue to fester until their relationship reached a slow and inevitable death. It was better to cut it off now if that's what he wanted. She braced herself before asking again, "What is it you want?"

Faith expected anger and fury in response to her question. Instead, as Bosco turned to face her he let out a deep sigh as if his want was a dead weight in the pit of his stomach. Faith could sense his indecisiveness and the battle raging within as to which way he would take this conversation. More than anything Bosco wanted his old life back. His world was full of lies and deceit masked as justice. It was hard to tell the good guys from the bad and he had only himself to blame for the mess he was in. He could not imagine Faith taking him back and at the same time he could not imagine a world without her. He felt trapped in a no man's land and before he could stop himself, he allowed his answer to slip heavily into the night air, "Everything and nothing."

Faith tried to understand the meaning of what Bosco said. He was normally so straight forward and blunt but she sensed that he needed her to understand him without all the words in between. A feeling of helplessness invaded her and she thought how these words perfectly described the immensity of the gap between who they once were and where they stood today. She looked up and saw what she could only describe as both dread and resignation in Bosco's eyes. The same look that she had misread earlier when she spotted Bosco at the top of the landing in the precinct. His expression reminded her of the person who comes to tell you that a loved one is dead all the while choking down their own grief. Faith fingered the note in her hand while the realization dawned on her that there, inside the precinct, above her on the landing; Bosco understood that their old lives were gone forever.

This was true, but Faith also understood that every day and every moment was a thing of the past. Her children had taught her that everything is fleeting for better or for worse and that was how life worked. There are no constants. Faith smiled at this thought; there were no constants including the fighting between her and Bosco. One day that would end – for better or for worse.

Faith knew that in Bosco's world everything was an all or nothing proposition and somehow he needed her to show him another way. "Maybe, we just need to find somewhere in between," Faith offered as she stepped towards him.

Bosco looked away from Faith ashamed that she would even consider taking him back after everything he put her through. And as he gazed down the street, he realized the past was in the far distance and the future he had once envisioned would never come to pass and all that mattered was the here and now. He understood that endings don't mean that there are no new beginnings.

He looked up at Faith and sensed her nervousness. He returned her gaze with understanding and gratitude and nodded his acceptance as he stepped towards her and reciprocated her offer with one of his own, "let's start somewhere in between."

The End


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